It only feels really cold...

I posted last week about what a blessing it had been to reconnect with a few guys from my USMC days. You're looking at what was Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station in the late 80's and is now known as just Marine Corps Base Hawaii.

Yes, it's as gorgeous there as the picture looks...





I remember the cold, snowy day I learned KMCAS would be my first Marine Corps home. My Basic School (TBS) class had just finished our last field exercise and was humping (aka marching) back in to finish up. All newly commissioned Marine Officers attend a six month school in Quantico, VA regardless of the occupational field they go into once in the Fleet Marine Force. As a matter of fact, how you finish in your class (everything is graded) determines which field choice you get unless you have a flight contract (pilots) or are JAG (lawyers). It's six months of competition with 180 of the most competitive natured guys on the face of the planet that, mind you, have already endured the rigorous requirements necessary for a commission to start. Unmatched in any other branch of the service...it's just plain brutal.

In my TBS class of Fox Company '86, less than 10 points separated #1 from #178 after literally dozens of test covering subjects from Marine Corps' history to company-sized tactics to physical endurance. The Corps uses careful screening and then Officer Candidate School to weed out applicants who can't make the cut. Typical attrition at OCS is better than 50%, and you are encouraged to drop on request (DOR) at any point during the process. So, the freshly commissioned lieutenants at TBS are hungry to prove they are worthy and belong in the company they keep. I was absolutely no different.

I finished high enough in my class to get my first occupational choice and probably my choice of duty station too, but the duty station is based solely on Marine Corps need. There was only one slot for Hawaii...and I wanted it.

Northern Virginia is pretty darn cold in December, and we had been out in the elements for five days.The nine mile walk home was nothing but a punctuating badge of honor for Fox Company and our gung-ho Company Commander who believed trucks were for supply lines and helicopters were for jumping out of into a fight...not for riding out of one.  About half way into the hike, my Platoon Instructor pulled up along side me. Lost in my on world at the time, I didn't even notice the taller, lankier Captain walking next to me until he spoke...

CAPT R- Still pretty cold out here. What do figure? 10...maybe 12?

LT Tony C- Does it matter sir? I've not paid attention to it all week, so why start now?  

CAPT R- Very true. Of course, this is pretty warm compared to where you're going...

LT Tony C- (crap! Camp Fuji, Japan...my second choice) It's about time we took the fight to the Russians. All this waiting around and bantering back and forth isn't my style of fight anyway. Glad we've got a Commander in Chief with some guts. If Ike had listen to Patton back in WWII...

CAPT R- (cutting me off) You watch too many movies. We're not going to Russia...at least yet.

A few miles passed in silences as we kept pace, me in formation carrying a weeks worth of gear on my back and Captain R beside me with a wry grin on his face. As we came into the next 5 minute break for gear adjustments, he slapped me on the back and said just one word...

CAPT R- Aloha.

As he pressed to the front of the column laughing to himself, I suddenly felt a little warmer. Actually, I felt a lot warmer. The rest of the hump seemed to just fly by with my thoughts fixated on all things tropical...


Next post- a few funny stories from the island paradise.